


Help from Mysterious Places

by Reiya_Wakayama



Series: SuperWolf AU [1]
Category: Supernatural, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Crossover, Gen, M/M, Magic, Mild Language, Protective!Derek, Superwolf, Werewolves, healer!stiles, poisoned!Dean, worried!Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-05
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-12-07 13:26:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/748999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Reiya_Wakayama/pseuds/Reiya_Wakayama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU/Crossover, Dean’s in trouble and not going to last long. Bobby sends him and Sam to someone who might be able to help.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Help from Mysterious Places

**Author's Note:**

> Finally got around to start watching Supernatural and loving it so far. Decided to do some SuperWolf ficing.

“Dean! Dean!” Sam yells, sliding to his knees next to his brother. The hunter’s pale and barely breathing. “Shit, hang on, Dean. Just hang on.” Fumbling for his phone, Sam pulls it out and hits the third button on his speed dial list.

“What?” Bobby Singer grunts into the phone, clearly just having woken up.

“Bobby, it’s Sam. Listen, Dean’s hurt. Got hit by something that the creature let off when it died. Poison, venom maybe. I need your help. Please, is there any way we can save him? Someone, something?” Sam asks frantically into the phone.

“Where are you boys?” he asks.

“Northern California,” Sam says, still keeping a hand on Dean’s neck, feeling his weak pulse.

“There’s someone, maybe. Yer not gonna like it, but he can heal Dean. Yer gonna have to tread carefully here Sam,” Bobby says.

“Just spit it out,” Sam yells into the phone.

“Just, there’s a group of people of the more supernatural persuasion there that are mighty fond of him and won’t like it if you threaten him or them. You got to keep your guns to yourself if you want to save Dean,” Bobby explains.

“All right, fine, I won’t look into anything that might be happening there. Now, where is this healer?” Sam asks.

“Do you know of a small town called Beacon Hills?” Bobby asks.

~*~

“Stiles, stop twitching,” John Stilinski, now ex-Sheriff after his retirement, says to his son.

“Sorry, just nervous,” Stiles says and stills his twitching knee.

“Son, everything’s gonna be all right. I know you worry about my health, but it’s been years since I’ve had a bad report. You can stop worrying. With the way you’ve kept me to my diet, the doc might say I’m too healthy,” his dad jokes, nudging his side.

“Sheriff,” someone says behind them.

“Derek, how many times do I have to tell you to call me John? I’m not the Sheriff anymore,” John says, looking back and up at the looming Alpha werewolf.

“Reflex,” he says with a smile. “I’m here to take worrywart here off your hands,” Derek says nodding to Stiles who glares at him.

“Oh, thank god. Now I can sit here in peace. Stiles, no fussing, go with him and relax. I’ll be fine,” John says, giving his son the “no nonsense” look.

Stiles sighs. “Fine, but the moment you’re done, call me to tell me the results,” Stiles says, wagging his finger at his father.

“Yes, dear,” John pipes up. Stiles sticks his tongue out and leans down to give his dad a quick hug before following Derek out of the clinic.

“He’ll be fine,” Derek says as they walk to his Camaro. “Besides, I can hear his heart and it sounds just as it always does. No changes whatsoever.”

“I know that, but I _can’t_ hear it and I just want to have solid proof before I go celebrating,” Stiles admits, running a hand through his hair. He’s let it grow out over the years since his junior year. He’s gotten used to it.

Getting in the Camaro, Derek speeds off back to the Hale House, rebuilt a few years before. They’re just walking up the porch steps when Derek freezes, head tilting back towards the drive leading here. Growling, Derek steps in front of Stiles just as a black Impala skids to a halt in front of the house, barely missing clipping the Camaro.

They don’t have to wait long before a tall man nearly falls out of the car in his haste. His brown hair is long and shaggy and he’s breathing hard. The man stares at Derek and his bright red eyes before squaring his jaw. “I’m not here for a fight. Are you Stiles?” he asks.

Stiles steps to the side, still behind Derek, but now visible. He nods at the man. “Please, it’s my brother,” he says and his voice cracks, the look in his eyes desperate.

Before Derek can stop him, Stiles is stepping around him and back down the steps and towards the car. Growling in frustration, Derek follows.

~*~

Sam stares at the man on the porch, with his muscled body and glowing red eyes and decides that Bobby was right. He really doesn’t want to get involved here. At least not right now when Dean needs help. “I’m not here for a fight. Are you Stiles?” he asks staring at the man.

What he isn’t expecting is for someone to step from behind the man’s looming form and nod at his question. He’s young, in his early twenties maybe, with light brown eyes and hair. “Please, it’s my brother,” Sam says and can’t keep the frantic need from his voice and face, knows he’s being vulnerable right now.

Stiles ignores his glaring bodyguard and steps down from the porch towards him. Turning his back on Red Eyes, he leads the way to the passenger side door of the Impala. Dean’s even paler after the five hour drive to reach this little town in the middle of nowhere.

“Oh, this isn’t good. Derek, gonna need your help here. We need to get him inside, to my room. The circle, not the bed,” he says.

Sam looks up and Red Eyes-Derek is just there, glaring but nodding to whatever Stiles tells him. Sam doesn’t even flinch as Derek puts his hands on Dean and pulls him out of the car like a rag doll, like he weighs absolutely nothing.

Stiles is already running for the house, tugging at the arms of his long sleeved plaid shirt as he disappears through the door. Sam follows Derek up the steps and into the two story house. It’s wide open in the main room, taking up nearly half the floor space of the first floor.

Derek crosses it with ease and enters the open door on the other side of the room. Following, Sam steps through to see Stiles tugging a rug off to the side and revealing a circle of power inlaid into the wood of the floor. He can’t tell what kind of circle it is, but if Bobby says this guys a healer then he can only assume it’s to help amplify his abilities.

But it’s Stiles himself that catches Sam’s eye, even as he keeps watch as Derek lowers Dean onto the circle. He’s taken the shirt off and revealed the black of swirling symbols and designs of inked skin. They start at his wrists and work up under the sleeves of his t-shirt.

Stiles is saying something when he finally listens in, “...lucky you got here now. A few more hours and I might not have been able to do anything. Now, tell me exactly what happened?”

Stiles looks at him and Sam tells the truth, no matter how it might get them killed. “We were hunting this creature. Killed ten people in two weeks. We took it down, but it shot something at Dean just as it died. I think it’s some sort of poison or venom. We weren’t able to figure out which it was since that’s how it was taking down its victims,” Sam says.

He can feel Derek’s heavy gaze on him, wary but not attacking right out. “Who told you I was here?” Stiles asks, his light eyes piercing in their directness.

“Bobby Singer. Said you were a healer and could help Dean. Told me not to come in guns blazing and no threatening you or…” he glances at Derek, “or your guardians. I agreed and he gave me the address.”

“Fine, stand back, this is gonna be bright,” Stiles says, rolling his shoulders to loosen them up. He starts mumbling under his breath, but Sam can’t make out what. He blinks as lines of light start to outline the tattoos on his arms and he can see light outlines from under his shirt.

Sam jumps as flames appear around Stiles hands and starts to run forward as he steps up to Dean’s prone form. Derek wraps an arm around his waist holding him back with an iron grip just as Stiles’ hands land on Dean’s chest.

The flames don’t burn like he expects. They seem to disappear into Dean’s body and his brother’s skin seems to glow. Stiles is frowning, sweat dripping off of his brow as he concentrates. Suddenly, the light stops and Dean jerks up, breathing in a deep breath, eyes staring up unseeing before, he collapses back to the floor, out cold.

Stiles sighs, standing up shakily. Sam stares at him. “What did you do?” he asks, amazed. In all his time hunting, he’s never seen magic like this. “I burned the venom from his body. Purifying heat. Kind of what the body does naturally, only upped on steroids,” Stiles grins at his clever word choice. “He’ll be fine. Needs to sleep it off and given a decent meal when he wakes up, but he’ll be right as rain.”

Sam doesn’t even realize Stiles is starting to fall until Derek is just there, catching the man as he slumps to the floor, pale and shaking a little. “Think I might have overdone it a bit. Mind helping me to get something to eat?” Stiles asks, grinning up at Derek.

Derek rolls his eyes, but helps him up, keeping a steadying hand around his waist, concern evident in his handling of Stiles like he’ll fall apart. “There’s a bed over there,” Stiles nods to the other side of the room. “Put him to bed and let him sleep and come out to the kitchen for something to eat.”

Sam nods and waits until they’ve left before pulling Dean up off the floor. Stripping him down to his underwear, he pulls the blankets up and watches him for a few moments. Already, the color is coming back into his face, his breathing even and not the effort it had been on the way here.

Sighing in relief, Sam leaves the room, shutting the door and following his ears and nose to the kitchen. Stiles is chatting with Derek who is looming to the side, keeping an eye on Stiles as he wolfs down what looks like leftovers from dinner in record time.

“So, who are you?” Stiles asks while changing the topic as Sam steps up to the kitchen island Stiles is sitting at. “I mean, I’ve got an idea, but I like to have my ideas confirmed before I say them.”

“Sam Winchester and that’s my brother Dean,” Sam says and Stiles nods with a grin. “Um, how do you know Bobby?” he asks.

“Let’s just say I tend to get into trouble a lot, either it finds me or I go looking for it. I was going to a university near him, mostly to research stuff for my thesis. I was digging around in some woods and stumbled across him and a Basilisk. Not the best introductions, but not the worst either. We sort of bonded over a near death experience and a love of whiskey.”

“Oh,” Sam says. He remembers Bobby mentioning that incidence not too long ago.

“Actually, the better introduction was when he met Derek for the first time. That man is fast with a shot gun. But, since it was loaded with the wrong kind of bullet, it just gave Derek a scratch,” Stiles says with a smile. “Once I got him calmed down and enough alcohol in his system, I explained who exactly Derek is and why he’s not a threat. After that, he sometimes sends cases my way, people in need of a quick fix up or some obscure lore to help them with an evil beastie or two. But, he keeps our secret and we trust him enough to help out when he needs it. Which isn’t often, thank fuck,” Stiles says with a laugh and shovels another forkful of food into his mouth.

“And what exactly is Derek?” Sam asks, eyeing the man. He’s been keeping a list of all the things Derek has done: red, glowing eyes, extremely fast, inhumanly strong. He’s got a few ideas, but nothing conclusive.

“He’s a werewolf,” Stiles answers, eyes watching Sam closely.

“Bull. I’ve run into some werewolves and they’ve never been this…well, civilized,” Sam says, eyeing Derek closely.

“Ah, I see. Were they attacking relentlessly, completely out of control on the full moon, uncaring if they got hurt, like they had gone insane?” Stiles asks and Sam nods. “Most likely, they were Omegas you fought. Ones without a pack or who lost their pack and were driven insane. Wolves don’t do well alone,” Stiles says and looks at Derek briefly.

“So then?” Sam says, waiting for Stiles to finish his sentence.

“Derek and the others are in complete control, even on a full moon. They do not attack humans, unless it is hunters who attack first. We actually have a truce with the local werewolf hunting family. We don’t attack innocent humans, they don’t attack us.” Stiles finishes his last bite. “Well, I’m beat. I’m gonna head upstairs for a nap. Why don’t you go sit with your brother, keep an eye on him. If it looks like anything is happening out of the ordinary, just shout.”

Stiles grins and walks out, Derek following with a brief heavy look his way. Sam can just see them through the door to the kitchen at the base of the stairs. Derek is saying something softly, hand on Stiles arm. The man says something back with a small, private smile. Reaching up, he wraps his arms around Derek’s neck.

Derek’s arms go around his waist, pulling him in tight. Stiles sighs and brushes a kiss to Derek’s cheek and then lips before slipping out of his hold and heading up the stairs. Turning away before he can be seen watching, Sam sighs. He hears the front door shut and stands, making his way back to where his brother sleeps. His brother’s eyes are barely open, watching him. “Hey, how are you feeling?” he asks, pulling up a chair.

“Like hell, where are we?” he asks, voice soft.

“Beacon Hills, a little town in California. I brought you to someone Bobby recommended to help you when you were poisoned by that thing,” Sam says just as softly.

“Oh, that’s good,” Dean says, already starting to fade.

“Go to sleep, Dean. I’ll keep watch and fill you in when you wake up,” Sam says. Dean just nods slightly, already gone in sleep. “Looks like there are a few things we might learn here as well,” Sam says softly, but Dean doesn’t hear it. Sighing, Sam rubs at his face tiredly. Leaning back in the chair, he stretches his feet out, settling in for the long haul of watching over his brother.

**End.**


End file.
